Lucky Seven
by Miss Courtney x
Summary: Buffy encounters some old 'friends' of hers that she thought were dead and gone. With the help of a notsopleasant detective, she has to figure out how they're back, and most importantly...why? OCOC pairing...not really any others. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

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Prologue

**  
T**he wind was picking up. In these parts that was a sure sign of trouble and the locals were well aware of it; the streets were empty as though abandoned as thunder rumbled towards the east. Rain fell in torrents, flooding back alleys and the vacant properties at the bottom of the hill. Not a single beam of light penetrated the smothering darkness that blanketed the town, as the residents had locked their doors and shut their drapes so tight that the entire place appeared deserted. No smoke wafted from the crooked chimneys; no dogs scoured the garbage bins like usual. Everyone had shut themselves inside their bedrooms, doors and windows barricaded, a cross clutched in their fists as they fought off fear in a desperate attempt to fall asleep. If they had known beforehand how little all of this did to protect them…perhaps they wouldn't have bothered wasting some of their last breaths.

In long, slender fingers of mist the fog rolled in, turning the village into an eerie world of white. With it came a piercing chill, the kind that seems to puncture the warmth of your skin like a thousand shards of ice, and causes your breath to crystallize in the air in front of you. Every present drop of moisture froze over - trees and houses became ice sculptures; the streets, miniature versions of their glacier counterparts. The rain ceased to fall as winter seemed to take over from mid-spring, but clearly there was an unseen force at work here, one more powerful than any other that had befallen the sleepy little town of Port Clements. The unusual and supernatural were common happenings in and around the town for reasons unknown, but there had never been anything like this. Not even remotely.

At first the only sound was the shriek of the wind over the rooftops, rattling windowpanes and tossing loose objects against the aluminium siding of someone's home every now and then. After a while it stopped abruptly, dying down to a dull whispering that did nothing to drown out the sound of cloth dragging along the gravel road, as if someone were pulling themselves along the ground. Whoever – whatever – it was, they weren't alone; heavy, irregular footsteps followed behind, as if a drunkard were staggering along after knocking back a few too many shots at the local tavern. But the only pub was on the other side of town a few roads away…whoever these people were, they were outsiders, and unwelcome ones at that. Those who hadn't managed to succumb to sleep lay huddled beneath their quilts, eyes wide as fear flared within their hearts, fingers gripping the silver cross in their hands hard enough to turn their knuckles white. Something was not right; but even if they knew what it was there wouldn't be anything they could do to stop it.

The village was an old-fashioned one; the men went to work to provide for their families, while their wives stayed home to tend to the housework and the children. Rachel Hallstead was very different however – at thirty years old she had been married for eleven years, and had always refused to conform to the rest of the town's 'traditional' way of life. She and her husband, Ben, owned the book shop on the town's main street, and most of her time was spent there rather than at the house. Their ten-year-old daughter Carly was just as much of a spitfire, and was often getting reprimanded at school for back talking to her teacher.

Tonight they had left the shop late, like on all Fridays; it was the one day where Ben and Rachel could just sit down and get all that tedious paperwork done that they had let pile up over the course of the week. It was just after eleven when they finally arrived home, not long before the first omens of a threat appeared outside. Ben and Carly were fast asleep, but Rachel's mind was flying at a thousand miles an hour. After tossing and turning under the blankets for an hour, she gave up on trying to nod off and decided to go down to the kitchen and find something to eat – a snack usually ended up being the cure for difficult nights like this. With a sigh she slipped on her robe and padded downstairs, her footsteps echoing in the broad expanse of the winding staircase. It had been one of her favourite features of the place when she and her husband first bought it five years ago, and it still was – just not at night. It was pitch black without even the light of the moon glowing through the fog to guide her path; instead, she was forced to feel her way along the wall to make sure she didn't trip and break her neck (though she nearly did anyways thanks to the cat). Grumbling and a now bit sore around the ankles thanks to Pumpkin, as Carly had lovingly dubbed the hefty orange beast, Rachel made her way through the living room to reach her destination, glancing out the window as she went. What she saw made her blood run cold.

A hideous face grinned back at her, like none she had ever had the misfortune to see before. Mottled grey skin stretched paper-thin over its skull, bloodied and gaping where decomposition had worn it away. The thing's eyes peered in at her, wide and unblinking, as its lips stretched to revealed gruesome pointed teeth like that of a shark, but somehow ten times as threatening. Rachel's breath caught in her throat as she backed away on instinct, cringing as her back hit the wall behind her with a thud. For a long moment she simply stared, paralyzed with terror as it raised its hand as though to wave at her – this bizarre movement triggered her into action, and she opened her mouth to let out a scream…

But nothing came out. She tried again, but still there was nothing, just a rush of air as she exhaled. Panic flooded her system, gripping at her heart and squeezing until she was almost struggling to get oxygen into her lungs. Without a backwards glance she finally fled the room, stumbling over her own two feet as she went up the stairs as fast as she could possible go. Whatever that thing was, she wasn't letting it anywhere near her daughter or her husband. But when she flew into the master bedroom, Ben wasn't there.

"Ben!" she screamed silently, tumbling back into the hallway, the hair rising on the back of her neck as she saw the blood stain on the carpet trailing from inside Carly's room.

"No…" Her lips only mouthed the word as she ran towards it, stopping just inside the doorway. The room was silent and completely dark; she couldn't see anything but the outline of the chest of drawers, yet still she got the feeling that something terrible had happened – what other explanation was there for the pool of blood? Before she had a chance to flip the light switch to get a better look at things, she became aware of a presence behind her. Slowly she turned, somehow already knowing what she would find there.

The scream never even formed on her lips.

_Can't even shout, can't even cry,_

_The gentlemen are coming by._

_Looking in windows, knocking on doors,_

_They need to take seven and they might take yours._

_Can't call to mom, can't say a word_

_You're gonna die screaming but you won't be heard._

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YES, I'm aware that the 7G's have already died. But the plot will play out lovelily (a new word!) 

Please R&R!!!!!!!!_  
_


	2. Chapter 1

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Chapter One

** P**ort Clements was one of the few towns along the coast that Buffy Summers knew well. Despite having moved around from place to place over the years thanks to what she called her unofficial profession, she had never stayed anywhere long enough to really get to know the people who lived there. Not since Sunnydale had been taken down, at least. But Port Clements was just one of those places that always had some sort of trouble going on, thus resulting in Buffy being called out to eliminate the problem. She had a better job now, at least, as Giles's assistant at the university in Victoria (where he was now teaching mythology, a class unique to that campus), but because of her past ties with the supernatural, the town mayor was usually the one to give them a call. Normally Giles would accompany her on trips such as these, but this time of year was exam time, and he was bound to the university by responsibility to help the students prepare. So Buffy went alone.

The drive to Port Clements was long and tediously boring. There was nothing to see outside except mountains and lakes and sky, and since there was no radio reception she couldn't listen to any music to tune out whatever grim thoughts presented themselves in her head. Lately, it seemed that silence was yet another thing that Buffy couldn't stand; that, or just being alone. Either way, she was immensely relieved when she finally arrived at her destination. Since Port Clements didn't have its own police department (it was far too small a town for that), the nearest city had dispatched several uniforms to the scene. The cop cars were in parked in front of an older tudor-style home that had been built most likely in the forties or fifties; yellow tape cordoned off the yard as neighboring residents swarmed outside, confusion apparent in their faces. Buffy parked a little ways down and pushed her way through them, showing the uniformed officer by the gate her ID from the university, before heading up the front walk to head inside.

The place reeked of blood from the moment she stepped inside. The pungent odor of death didn't bother her as much as it had when she had first become the slayer, but it still caused her to stiffen as she became more aware of her surroundings. Each of her five senses seemed to go haywire every time she sensed something wasn't quite right, and in this house there was definitely something very wrong. The police wouldn't have sent more than two cars if it was just another vampire attack…no, something much worse had happened, something much more damaging than a single vamp. The scent of blood had never been so obvious at any other scene she and Giles had gone over.

"Ah, Summers! I'm glad you were able to make it before we were forced to call someone else."

The woman's voice behind her drew her attention away from her imagination and back to reality. Buffy turned and suppressed a roll of the eyes when she saw who was standing there.

"Detective," she replied as politely as she could manage, matching the other female's cool tone. Melody Ares was one of Vancouver's top detectives; intelligent, feisty and beautiful to boot, she was the embodiment of perfection - aside from her perpetually bitchy attitude towards people. Buffy had always gotten the impression that Melody hated everyone and everything, blaming them for her family's deaths when she was young, but she knew better than to judge. Past experience had taught her that you never really know anything about anyone until you've seen their dark side. Melody's dark side, however, she wasn't too keen on seeing. It was mildly disconcerting how easy it was for her to picture the other woman fighting the law instead of fighting evil.

They had first met just over three years ago, shortly after the destruction of Sunnydale and right when Giles first started teaching at the university. Willow was settling down in Vancouver with her girlfriend Emma, and Buffy had gone along with her to one of her coven meetings. It was there that she had first encountered Melody – the coven's most powerful witch, she had been told, and Buffy wasn't about to argue. She didn't know much about magic, but Willow was very talented in the matter and even her skills couldn't match Melody's. If she had met Melody the Cop before Melody the Witch, she would never have guessed that she was into that sort of thing – she just came off as being so _normal_, albeit a little more…_blunt_, let's say, than most people. They had butted heads, naturally, since both of them were the upfront types, and had been more than a little surprised (and less than pleased) when they met again a month later after a vampire attack up in Kitimat. Buffy was growing quite sick of hearing her chilly, sarcastic tones time and time again.

"Are you going to tell me why you made me drive four hours up the coast or is this is a new guessing game you made up?" Buffy said, glancing around at the cops wandering through the house. Two came down the stairs looking rather pale; the rest didn't seem to quite know what they were doing there. She assumed that they hadn't taken a look at whatever lay upstairs; if she could smell the carnage all the way down here then there had to be multiple victims, most likely gutted or something equally gory. Her stomach turned at the thought, but she kept her composure. She wasn't about to let her archnemisis (and somehow, also ally) see her at a weak moment.

Melody gave a weary sigh and passed a hand through her wavy dark hair, a gesture she only made when she was especially agitated. This had to be even worse than Buffy had thought.

"There are three victims; Rachel and Benjamin Hallstead, who own the book store on the main road…along with their ten-year-old daughter. Carly."

The way Melody's voice wavered ever so slightly as she spoke the daughter's name didn't go unnoticed by Buffy. While she didn't know much about the brunette detective's past, what she did know wasn't pretty. Her parents and sister had been killed when she was only eight years old, leaving her not only orphaned but without any surviving relatives at all. The scenario must have been similar or else she would be behaving just as coldly as she was known to be, as it was rare for her to display even the tiniest fraction of emotion.

"Do you have any idea what did it?"

Buffy wasn't sure if any of the other cops would have the slightest idea as to what they were talking about, but that wasn't important to her at the moment; she was more concerned with finding whatever had done this to the family and killing it. It was her duty as a slayer to exterminate whatever found its way out of the Hellmouth, and that was exactly what she intended to do…and then some. When they had first arrived up north they had thought it was centered around Vancouver, but now it appeared that the Hellmouth covered a much broader area than that, which only meant more ruthless murders and more things for her to kill. _What fun,_ she thought sarcastically. Exactly what she wanted to be doing, instead of living her own life without caring about anything else. But Buffy had never had it that easy.

"It's hard to say," Melody replied, turning on her heel to start her way up the stairs; she beckoned for Buffy to follow her and she did so, though grudgingly.

"It definitely wasn't a human or a vamp, whatever it was; David initially thought it may have been a werewolf but the wounds are inconsistent with their bite marks. In fact, there aren't any bite marks at all – see for yourself." They stopped just outside the door to one of the bedrooms; the stench of blood was almost overwhelming at this point and Buffy nearly gagged as Melody swung the door open. Two of the bodies were covered with sheets, but the third – Rachel Hallstead – was left in full view just inside the doorway. She was flat on her back, arms outstretched over her head as though she had been reaching towards the hallway when she had been murdered. Her eyes, probably once blue, were wide open, the corneas clouded over as most corpses' were; her expression was frozen to portray fear in its rawest form. But that wasn't what was holding Buffy's attention. No, it was the perfectly square area of cloth and flesh that had been sliced and removed, revealing nothing but a hole where her heart should have been. Something about the situation struck her as familiar, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it…it was as if she had seen this all before.

Something bubbled to the surface of her memory as Buffy gritted her teeth and passed Melody to go into the room and get a better look at it. The little girl who had lived here had been very fond of music boxes, it seemed, as she had quite the collection lined up along the shelves above the chest of drawers. There were thirteen in total, all delicately hand-carved and hand-painted, all similar in appearance – except for one. Stepping across the body of Benjamin to get a closer look, she reached to remove it from its place at the end – up close, the intricate carvings on the sides and dainty latch only made the memory clearer. It couldn't be the same little wooden box, could it? There was no way…it wasn't possible. As if on instinct, she recited the once long-forgotten rhyme under her breath.

"_Can't even shout, can't even cry…the _gentlemen _are coming by…_"

"Summers, do the music boxes hold vital evidence to this case or are you simply curious as to how they make the pretty sounds?" Melody snapped from her place leaning against the doorframe. While she had been polite before, Buffy should have known that the bad attitude would return soon enough. It was as if the detective couldn't go five minutes without feeling the need to bitch someone out.

"This one…it just reminded me of something that happened back in Sunnydale a while back, while I was in college. Combined with the hearts being ripped out - "

"More like _cut_ out with the precision of a neurosurgeon."

"Right. Whatever. But the thing is…what did this back then…we got rid of them."

Melody looked at her.

"_Them_? You mean there's more than one?"

"There _was_ more than one. Seven, to be exact…but last time we checked they were all dead. Whatever did this to the family can't be the Gentlemen," Buffy said, carefully placing the box back on the shelf where she had originally taken it from.

"Not necessarily. Combined with whatever else is out there these days, they could have rematerialized. Or even been resurrected," Melody replied, speaking as though she were explaining this to a child. Buffy glared at her, arms crossed over her chest.

"I suppose that's entirely possible. But that doesn't make it true," she pointed out.

"I'm well aware of that, thanks. It's called 'exploring the possibilities'. We won't know more until Giles manages to tear himself away from his precious students and get his ass up here."

Buffy wasn't the only one who had clashed with Melody in the past. Giles hadn't been particularly fond of her either, since she seemed to have no respect for anyone, more or less, and appeared to resent figures of authority in general. Well, figures of authority that could keep her from doing what she pleased, at least. She got along fairly well with some of the uniforms, but other than that, Buffy had never seen her be truly nice to someone. It would have been still more concerning if she wasn't just so damn annoying, even though Buffy could relate to her to some extent. She had never got on too well with those above her in the past, either (she'd been kicked out of two high schools for fighting and had a principal, a mayor, and one of her old bosses try to kill her), but she'd never resented any of them for no good reason. Hating people just seemed to make Melody feel all fuzzy inside.

Ignoring Melody's rude response about Giles, Buffy brushed past her to head back outside. The strong stench of the room was beginning to make her dizzy and she needed to get some fresh air into her lungs, before she became in danger of passing out or something equally embarrassing. She also figured she could ask the neighbors a few questions while she was out there, to see if anything had happened last night that mirrored the Gentlemen incident at the Sunnydale college campus six years ago. It was a long stretch, but she figured she might as well get some investigating done on her own instead of waiting two days for Giles to get there. She loved the man like a father, but he was prone to dillydallying and Buffy had a habit of getting impatient.

The yard was almost empty when she stepped outside, aside from two uniformed officers sitting on the front stairs and the one guarding the gate. She paused there for moment, taking deep breaths to clear her sinuses of the foul smell inside before bounding down the steps to go up to the officer at the gate. The square plastic tag on his pocket read 'Jones' in plain white font.

"Hi, Officer Jones, I'm Buffy Summers from the University of Victoria," she said, extending a hand by means of greeting. He gave her an appraising glance before taking it.

"Call me Aaron," he replied, dropping his arm back down to his side.

"I know who you are. I was at the scene of the attack in Nanaimo three years ago, but I've moved up a few ranks since back then."

He sounded pleased with himself, and Buffy could tell that she was going to have some difficulty getting past his ego to get the answers she was looking for. Pasting what she hoped was a cheerful grin on her face, she moved to the other side of the fence before asking him the first question.

"Have the neighbors said anything about what happened last night? Did anyone hear anything, or maybe see anything unusual?"

Jones gave her a lopsided grin that just exuded cockiness. Great. Now she'd really be getting an earful. She should have talked to one of the cops on the porch instead, but it was too late now.

"At first I thought it was because my interviewing skills had them struck dumb with fear – see, I've been brushing up on all that for the detective exam next month, so it's understandable that I would have intimidated them a little. But then Hill gave it a shot, only he's failed the exam twice, so of course - "

"Did they say anything or not?" Buffy pressed, holding back an eye roll. This guy was full of it. Jones looked a bit hurt by her tone, but gave her a straight answer anyways.

"Nobody's said anything. Didn't you hear me say 'struck dumb'? It's like they've all gone mute overnight. Suspicious, I call it. I bet they're hiding something, or so my detective instincts tell me."

Buffy had stopped listening to Jones's arrogant rambling by the third sentence, as she'd heard what she needed to near. '_It's like they've all gone mute overnight'_…maybe Melody was right after all. For this was exactly what had happened in Sunnydale when the Gentlemen had come to town – the entire city had literally been rendered speechless, unable to even whisper. News programs and specialists from nearby towns had illogically declared it as an epidemic of laryngitis and put them under quarantine, but as Buffy and her friends had discovered, it was anything but. The only other person who had seen the Gentlemen's grisly deaths – Riley – now lived a ways down south in Seattle; Buffy made a mental note to give him a call later and see if the Initiative had picked up on anything strange lately – well, stranger than usual.

"Thanks for your help," she said absentmindedly, giving him a polite smile before abruptly turning on her heel to head back to the car. If the Gentlemen had indeed been resurrected somehow and had victimized Port Clements, she wasn't going to stick around much longer to risk lose her voice to them again. Spending the night here was way too dangerous, especially when she still had Dawn to look out for. Even though her little sister (though not so little any more) was now in her second year of university, Buffy still needed to be there for her, whether in the flesh or over the phone. She supposed there was always Giles or Willow or even Xander, but she didn't want to cause her any unnecessary worry. Then again, she was a slayer – there was no way to prevent that from causing _somebody_ some grief. Too bad it wasn't in the job description.

Buffy was vaguely surprised to find another detective from the VPD, Melody's partner and near polar opposite, David LeClerc, leaning against the door of the SUV. Whereas Melody was hardened and bitter, David was your typical nice guy – sometimes. While he was generally very professional and by-the-book when dealing with most people, he and Melody bickered more than Buffy had ever seen two people fight before. Even his wife of twenty years, Dana, said they fought like an old married couple. Buffy found it hard to imagine Melody being married to anyone, let alone tolerating someone enough to even like them, so of course the subject always made her laugh a bit.

"Hey, David! How've you been?"

She acknowledged him with the broadest smile she could muster considering the circumstances, maneuvering around him to unlock the car door. He moved aside to let her pass, looking a bit queasy as he glanced back towards the house before responding.

"I've been good, I've been good…Giles called earlier to let me know you were coming up here. Did the scene give you any idea of what did…_that_?"

Buffy sighed wearily, her gaze following his up to the windows of the Hallstead residence.

"Nothing that I haven't fought before."

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Y'all know the drill by now...I hope... 


End file.
